


Here I am, Again, On My Own

by Soulbarebones



Series: Rumspringa Ezra [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Amish, Gen, Rumspringa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-26
Updated: 2018-05-26
Packaged: 2019-05-14 00:50:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14759459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soulbarebones/pseuds/Soulbarebones
Summary: The world is vast and Ezra is just beginning to explore it.





	Here I am, Again, On My Own

Ezra could sleep through a stampede of sheep on a haystack filled with rocks... 

 

Or so his sister had said, once. But that before. When he'd had a soft, warm bed, curtains that softly billowed in the wind, and the only sounds in the darkness of the predawn were the soft lows of cows and the occasional burst from an overzealous rooster. 

 

Things were different now. The curtainless windows rattled in their frames with each passing semi, even though they were nailed to the sill, and the sun beat through them, turning his small rented room into a veritable green house, only there were no plants or vegetables in sight.

 

Aside from a few changes of clothes and a set of mismatched dishes he’d cobbled together from The Dollar Store, he had an old blue book bag with one shoulder strap that he'd sewed back on himself. Hardly the craftsmanship of his kin, but a cob-job saved only by the fact that it was functional. Mostly he used it to bring home the dented cans and deformed boxes from the grocery store he stocked shelves in overnight.

 

He was supposed to pay for them, and usually he did, although sometimes one of the girls in the bakery slipped him a bagful of stale donuts or bagel rejects after he'd already clocked out and was headed toward the bus station. Sometimes, if he hadn't been careful with his money and it was too many days before the next paycheck, he'd use it to collect bottles and cans. He supposes, if he'd had enough laundry to warrant a trip to the laundromat, he might try to stuff them in the trusty bag as well. But he doesn't. He left the community with the only two sets of English jeans and four t-shirts he was in possession of. A bag of socks and a thick hoodie had been a few of the prudent purchases he'd made, but he managed just fine with a bar of laundry soap and the bathroom sink.

 

The bedspring below the lumpy mattress groaned as he pushed himself up. It was too hot, too noisy, too day-y, to sleep. And thinking of his sister had made him miss the berry-rhubarb pies that she made this time of year. The rhubarb season was so short, and it really was a pity. 

 

Ezra had seen some rhubarb in the store. It was overpriced and thin, not the wide, fat ribs that grew in the front lawn of his parents house. But he made a mental note to check the old produce rack and see if there were any turning soft and dry at the edges that were marked down for a quick sale. He could dunk them in the sugar packets he took from the diner and make a quick snack. 

 

But for now, he needed something else, and he rummaged through the wooden crate that he'd taken from the dumpster and repaired with other scraps he'd found. Nothing appetizing. Even Easy Mac required too much effort. Then he opened the mini fridge, bypassed the deli meat with the rainbow sheen forming on top, then reached for the peanut butter, unscrewing the lid and dunking a finger in deep.

 

He stuck his finger into his mouth and sucked on it as he wandered to the window to watch the world pass by. From his window at home, he'd been able to see the road too. A dusty dirt road that was trafficked mainly by horse and buggy, although the late spring and summer brought more car-bound tourists than locals now that Amish fiction had gained in popularity.

 

Here though...here was the hustle and bustle that he loved. The sea of unknown faces. The glow of neon signage. The allure of the English and their life of sin.

 

A little girl holding hands with a young woman, both their heads uncovered, looked up and waved to him. Smiling, Ezra raised his hand and waved in return. Here, he was an outsider, but he still felt more welcome on the fringes than he ever had at home. Here, he wasn't a freak. Just raw potential on a crash course with life. Here, he was free.


End file.
